Texas Angel, 2-in-1 Read Free Page A

passage and agreed to guide them to Natchez. It had been a hard blow to leave his costly wagon behind, but Benjamin thanked God that at least their belongings could fit onto Fife’s conveyance.
    Now Benjamin’s forbearance of the man was wearing thin. Fife’s foul tongue, his crude manners, and his constant interference in matters involving Benjamin’s family were trying even Benjamin’s vast reserve of Christian tolerance. After two days on the road, he had forbidden his family to have any contact with Fife. Micah had taken a liking to the trapper and spent the days after Benjamin’s edict sulking. It didn’t help that Fife constantly defied Benjamin by continuing to socialize with the children, telling them stories, giving them treats, or performing other indulgent acts.
    No, it had not been easy following God’s will in uprooting his family and transporting them hundreds of miles from their civilized home in Boston to this wild, godless land. Some had called Benjamin crazy or even heartless to impose such a fate upon a genteel woman and two helpless children. But God must always come first, and His will must always supersede the desires of the flesh.
    Nevertheless, Benjamin would never reveal to another human, not even his wife, that he often feared what lay ahead and was sickened at the thought of what he had left behind—a comfortable frame house, a pastorate in a small but fine church, his ailing parents, whom he knew he would never see again. And yes, in the privacy of his prayer closet, he even at times doubted the very calling of God.
    Benjamin glanced covertly back at his family huddled together on the hard wagon boards with only a few blankets to pad them against the bouncing and jolting. The children, even Micah, were clinging to their mother. Five-year-old Isabel looked especially helpless, but she had always been a frail child.
    Rebekah, thank God, was asleep, but her eyes fluttered beneath the thin, pale lids. It was almost impossible now to see through her weari.ness the lovely woman she was. Creamy skin with a small smattering of freckles across her nose was the inevitable legacy of her voluminous auburn hair. It had always given her such a vibrant appearance, but now it only emphasized frailty. She had never supported her husband’s caprice, as she often called it. She tried to tell him that one did not have to go to the wilderness to serve God. There were sufficient sinners in Boston to keep a man of God occupied honorably. She had wept every day for two weeks before their departure. She had several sisters with whom she was quite close and a younger brother whom she adored, not to mention parents she loved. Then there were scores of friends and a pleasant life filled with social gatherings, ministrations to the needy, sewing circles, and the like. She had been a minister’s wife to be proud of, happily active in the church, submissive to her husband, and beloved by her children.
    Benjamin knew more than ever that because of her sacrifices, he must never allow his fleshly doubts to surface. He had to ignore them and stand firm in his convictions. She must never know that he wavered at times.
    In that spirit, he turned his face forward again, setting his jaw, gathering his resolve around him like a shield. He had always lived by the strength of his convictions, so why should now be any different? He was wearing the mantle of God, and that mantle was large enough to cover his family as well.
    Natchez, located on the Mississippi River, on the border of the states of Louisiana and Mississippi, was a thriving port town of several thousand inhabitants. Here the Sinclair family would take passage on a riverboat, which would transport them to New Orleans. From there it was but a five. or six-day sea voyage to Texas. With the end of the long journey finally within sight, Benjamin was feeling hopeful once more.
    “Rebekah,” he called to the back of the wagon, “we have come to a city at last. We shall